


a warrior's legacy

by mushroomherb



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Childbirth, Exiled Jon Snow, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Jon Snow and the Starks Are Not Related, Jon Snow is Not a Stark, Light Angst, No Royal Family, Pregnant Sansa Stark, Set in The Same Time Period, Stark Family is Only A Noble Family, jonsa baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27118388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroomherb/pseuds/mushroomherb
Summary: Noblewoman Sansa Stark gave birth to a son, with hair as dark as raven, eyes as misty as the fog at dawn. It was no question of who his father was.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Comments: 10
Kudos: 115





	a warrior's legacy

**Author's Note:**

> this is set at the same time period with the original Game of Thrones series, but Sansa's no queen neither Jon is a king.

He came _home_ to the world with wails as loud as the human ears could bear hearing. No one as his mother's company but her sister Arya, who was by her side on the bed with face folded in disgust. His Mama’s brothers disappeared after his head was visible, also in disgust. Though that disgust subsided by great when they took a peek upon the little man’s face, fair skin that hadn’t been touched by sun, cleaned and wiped dry with soft cloth by his mother.

He came to the world when night was cold and the moon nowhere to reflect the sun’s light. Round little face cried in the shadow of the clouds, it was hard to see his features to picture him clearly, but his mother knew very well whose origin was way dominant, made apparent by the hair first.

Baby’s hair was very dark and unruly in the morning light, seen in utmost awe the day after his birth, when he was being brought under the sun for the first time. Though the strands were short and wild, looked coarse and rough, it proved to be wrong for the mop was so soft under his mother’s caressing touch. It was his father’s hair if it wasn’t obvious enough. Little head was brought closer to Mama’s lips to be kissed, stark difference they made, raven to copper.

Some days later, it made it even more unmistakable who his father was, manifested in a pair of eyes as calming as the raining sky, a little speck of blue in each one, they were brighter than his father’s stormy ones.

 _But both of you are beautiful_ , Mama whispered to Baby in some lonely nights.

His aunt and uncles came daily to coo at him, to hold him with hesitant arms, hug him with incompetence that sunk low down on the riverbed. They laughed and smiled in joy when little fingers wrapped tightly ‘round calloused ones, innocent in the world of wars and battles, a saviour of wounded fighters.

Uncle Rob often brought him clothes of finest silk, Uncle Bran brought him stories of late grandfather and grandmother, Aunt Arya sometimes came bringing him legends of his father.

Sansa named him Aegon by the tenth day of him coming to her life.

\---

Her heart beat unfairly fast when she heard the news of him coming home, much earlier than planned. Ran home in the harsh snow with only her little baby in her mind, legs ached from cold and from how heavy it was to battle the deep, white layers of ice. But if it meant to lose her legs to be back again with her baby, she’d have no hesitation.

No time to take a lungful of breath even when she reached her dark palace, it was silent and the winds of the winter deafened her ears. What a hindrance, she needed to hear for _signs_. But she kept trying as she walked around the perimeter. Although that seemed to be vain, for she still could hear nothing but the coming storm.

And so she strode forward, inside, wary in her eyes for shadows in the corners of the house.

And then she heard it, one soft whine from the bedchamber upstairs, one calm attempt to shush the oncoming disaster.

Sansa had her legs ran up the stairs _fast_ before she could even take a breath, a breath for what was about to greet her.

The door to her chamber wide open. Blood made a way out of the confines of the heavy door, it came from a pool of red by the foot of her bed, completely saturating the source. Of bright, and blonde hair, short and _cold_ , now that the heart to the head was dead, impaled deep with sword that shined in the night.

Her baby’s whines clearer in her ears now, and she traced her eyes from down her husband’s lifeless figure, up to her right side to the source, Aegon safe in his aunt’s arms.

Sansa stared at her sister for a long minute before she nodded, walking closer to her baby and avoidance in her steps as to not make bloody footprints in the room. She gently picked Aegon up from the warrior’s pernicious arms, whispering a soft _thank you_ with relief and solace bigger than she could think herself of ever having.

 _He was about to kill him,_ Arya had said.

The smile on Aegon’s mother was nothing short of gratitude.

\---

One full moon passed since they left the city of winter, nothing but warm layers of garments and enough coins to buy Mama’s food were brought along with them. Aegon’s hair kept getting slightly longer since they were far from civilisation, much to his mother’s relief for it could help him fight the cold when they could find no warm shelter for the night.

Sometimes Mama accepted help from old husbands and wives who took pity on the young mother and her baby, some other times she just refused politely with excuses of getting to Father’s place faster. Sometimes when it was deemed safe, she told them of their names as _Sansa_ and _Aegon_ , some other times she said _Alayne_ and _Rickon_ , to avoid things getting out of hand.

Sansa had even found a way to carry him without trouble in their long journey. Her long coat folded and bundled in some complicated ways around her body, Baby put inside the safe place made from the cloth, in front of her chest with ease to his source of food.

There were nights when he was a little fussy and needed to be held instead of carried, days when he wet both his own clean clothes and his mother’s dusty one. And then they had to stop by the river to clean up, all alone with only small creatures accompanying. On those nights she prayed to Gods for strength and safety and if it was viable for the Gods to bring Aegon’s father to them both.

But it was indeed worth the aching of her legs, the pain all through her arms and ribcages when they finally reached the warmer, small city. Beautiful structures with even more beautiful adorning doors and windows around in the middle of the town. She smiled warmly at her baby, shifted his position to rest his cheek atop her shoulder so he could take a look himself of the city where his father was exiled to.

It was still early morning, few people in the streets with wools to sell, some few others with vibrant vegetables in big wagons, some else stacked freshly-cut livestock tall, like a tower of lamb.

She had asked of _him_ to one of the passers-by, a woman of bright-coloured hair herself, Sansa thought they were of the same age. There was a look of surprise on the face but it was gone as fast as it had been there, her gaze flit down to the little sleepy body in comfort of his mother’s arms.

And then she answered with a smile, _further down the road, when you hear clangs of iron and steel, he’s there_.

Sansa smiled back and nodded her head in gratitude again and again, the smile did not go away as she made her way down the road.

\---

Dawn came just short after he awakened. Chilly as it usually was in the mornings, the sun slow to make appearance. It was the most beautiful of the day, when dark blue of the night slowly disappeared under the imposing red, a reminder for him of someone whose hair shone even brighter than the sun itself.

He made way to the blacksmith’s place, deciding to work early to avoid it being too hot the later he started forging. Ygritte was there already when he reached the place, yet to start the work of the day. She smiled noticing the familiar figure of the exiled warrior.

 _Jon, good morning_ , she had greeted.

 _Hello, starting early?_ he replied, a polite smile on his face.

She moved to get something by her station, saying something along the lines of, _yeah, getting ready early,_ and that she had to go by Tormund’s place first, and that the man needed his weapon before noon, all the while showing Jon an axe almost as big as her own body. He nodded in understanding before wishing her a good day and the town’s blacksmith disappeared under the morning sky.

He was about to change his clothing into something lighter, after going out to the back to retrieve some tools that he realised he had left outside the day before. He was about to bring them inside and start a day of endless forging and hammering metals, when a flash of red caught his vision.

He thought it was just Ygritte coming back to get something.

But then a soft sound came from his right. One that he was familiar with from spending time with Sam and Gilly’s new-born.

And so he whipped his body around, turned fully to finally _see_ the source. She was not looking at him but he knew that figure very well, _too_ well. Eyes widened as the tools he carried fell to the ground. He must be dreaming, right? He must be.

But then the figure’s head turned to him from the falling tools, and a small smile appeared on the heavenly face, it was as if the smile was directed to him, his direction, at _him_. Tresses of fire-kissed hair danced with the passing of morning wind, a pair of blue eyes glistened before one lone tear dripped down her cheek.

She stood there as if she was just made to be there, clothes not as heavy as he used to see her wearing, her hair flowed down freely as he liked it most, although he liked everything about her all the same, whether it be her hair being tied into a complicated braid, or being left a neat free-flow of waterfall, he’d _admire_ her with no less devotion. As beautiful as she always was, pale skin slightly bronzed for being under the sun for long period of time.

“Sansa?” he could only ask, to himself or to nothing, there was no difference.

“Sansa,” repeated him, an assurance, louder now and the distance between them felt too much and so he _ran_. Metal tools brushed aside by his quick strides to be by her side faster. He saw the smile on her face grew wider, light footsteps calm to make her way to meet him in the middle.

He cared for nothing else when she finally was just a breath away from him. Iron dirt on his hands went ignored when the pair made contact with her cheeks, _cold, cold cheeks_ , a tired smile adorned her face as she succumbed to his comfortable presence.

Jon kissed her with something even far greater than _worship_.

Smiles and light chuckles as he kissed her again, and again, and again until they were both breathless.

When he pulled away, it was because of the need to _see_ her, to _look_ at her face, and not of the need of air. Calloused fingers perched on fine-boned face, a shy smile of hers was all it took for him to lay his lips on hers again, and upon her forehead one last time before a particular sound jolted him awake to reality.

It was then that he realised the bundle in her arms, safe and secured with layers of clothing so only a little face was poking out for Jon to see.

He flitted his gaze downwards and the eyes that greeted him stunned him into silence. Lips agape as he looked back from the round little face to his sweetheart’s angular one, to Baby’s again as Sansa shifted him in her arms, the cloth protecting his head dropped and it showed Jon the dark mane underneath.

He looked up to ocean of blue again only to say, “He’s mine.”

Sansa smiled wide, nodding her head as her uncontrollable tears broke out. Jon kept his eyes on his son’s now, fixated to the point that he did not look like he was breathing.

“Sansa, he’s _mine_ ,” like that until it turned into a chant, until it was more of a whisper to himself rather than anything else, thumb caressing Baby’s cheeks all the while.

It was another minute of Jon smiling and talking to the small bundle before he stopped all course of action, eyes snapped up to his sweetheart with questions in them, a hand came up to adjust her wild hair and finally rest atop her shoulder.

“You left Harry?” he asked, hesitant.

But by the look that he got he knew already the answer to all of his prayers.

Small whine caught his attention again and he asked, “Sansa, what’s his name?”

There was another small smile before she answered, “Aegon. I named him Aegon, Jon.”

He could only stare at the beauty in front of him, eyebrows furrowing in an attempt to hold down the pool in his eyes from overflowing, but that failed greatly when Sansa gently handed him his son, Aegon came to his inexpert embrace with no fuss, quickly settling in comfortably between the crook of his father’s strong arm.

He looked up again to the only woman he ever dared to love, wildly and with everything he had, to be greeted by her face contorting in happiness, his chest felt like bursting with joy as he could only say, “ _Oh, sweetheart_.”

And Jon knew nothing to do but to seal his lips against hers, felt his cheeks wet and his mouth hurt from smiling too much.

He brought both of them _home_ with him that day, no more barrier and hindrance to hold him back from fiercely loving both _his_ Sansa and _his_ son.

\---

The day after, morning came by the sound of chirping of birds, Aegon woke up with his Mama and Father by his sides.

\---

**Author's Note:**

> y’all know The Pillars of The Earth? yeah.. got the inspiration from that series.. great series.. 
> 
> anyway lol thanks for reading! have a great day!


End file.
